


Dress You Up

by MercurySkies



Series: Dress You Up In My Love [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Fashion house owner Viktor, Fashion student Phichit, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 14:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10573329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurySkies/pseuds/MercurySkies
Summary: 'He has ordered too much champagne for the opening but seeing a drunk young fashionista, trying to convince his equally drunk but very reluctant friend to slip into one of the suit jackets from a new collection in a back corner of the shop makes it worth it.''Yuuri, more beautiful than anything Viktor could ever drape him in.'Fashion house owner and designer Viktor Nikiforov is a well known name in the industry, but he'd really rather have Yuuri's.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm dabbling in a cheeky AU. Now I know very little about the fashion and modelling industries so please forgive any inaccuracies where they aren't too glaring or atrocious. 
> 
> This is just a little meet-cute telling the story of how Viktor meets Yuuri, soon to be the best dressed man in the world because he wears Viktor's love :)
> 
> The title is from Madonna's Dress You Up because I just couldn't resist.

He has ordered too much champagne for the opening but seeing a drunk young fashionista, trying to convince his equally drunk but very reluctant friend to slip into one of the suit jackets from a new collection in a back corner of the shop makes it worth it. Viktor has hosted quite a few openings by now, he has boutiques around the globe but they soon become tedious, the same faces, benign praise and vague snobbery. He smiles and exchanges small talk, stays close to the V.I.P guests that only consist of his close friends and staff.

 

The only reason he hasn’t called security is because the drunk fashionista is on invitation from one of the local universities. Viktor is always looking out for local talent and the boy’s portfolio was looking promising. The plus one was a good idea, the guest he’s bought along is cute and _yes,_ he has definitely ordered too much champagne. He grabs another glass from the tray of a passing waiter and makes his way over.

 

“Phichit I am not putting that on, that jacket is worth more than my _life_ probably.” The dark-haired boy hisses, resolute as he folds his arms across a deliciously broad chest, barely noticeable under the boxy cut of his suit jacket. “Your life is worth a lot more than a jacket but it’s certainly priceless compared to the monstrosity you’re currently wearing. Phichit, do you let all your friends walk around in polyester atrocities?” Viktor interrupts and they gape at him, Phichit still brandishing the jacket.

 

They both start talking at once, Phichit’s guest bows slightly in apology, and Phichit himself babbles incoherently until Viktor raises a hand to silence them both. “Phichit Chulanont, thank you for coming, I’m Viktor Nikiforov.” He extends a hand and Phichit shakes it.

“I know.” He replies, “I mean yes hi it’s wonderful to meet you Mr Nikiforov thank you so much for the invitation.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you could make it, I love your work.” Phichit smiles equal parts ecstatic and terrified. The smile Viktor returns is entirely amused. “And your date...” Viktor trails off, turning toward Phichit’s plus one who is glancing nervously between them. “Oh! This is Yuuri Katsuki, my best friend. Believe me I tried to get him to wear something else tonight but he threatened not to come”

 

Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand and lifts it to his lips, brushing his knuckles with a kiss. It’s over the top and ridiculous but Yuuri blushes, stutter’s out a ‘nice to meet you’ that makes it more than worth it. “It’s my pleasure.” Viktor all but purrs, taking Yuuri’s hand and holding it out to his side, his sharp blue eyes appraising him calculatingly. It makes Yuuri fidget.

 

“Now about the jacket,” Viktor hums, “obviously, it’s not tailored, these are samples.” He reaches for the jacket and Phichit hands it to him wordlessly, watching with rapt attention despite the haze of alcohol. “What are your measurements?” Viktor asks Yuuri.

“I don’t know?” Yuuri replies, somewhat disgruntled but still holding Viktor’s hand. Viktor rolls his eyes, he turns to Phichit and asks him.

“I don’t know! I’ve asked him to model for me but he always says no.” Phichit sighs exasperated as though trying to convince Yuuri to model for him has been a fruitless battle for quite some time. “That’s a shame.” Viktor pouts, and the more he thinks about it the more he wants Yuuri to model for him and selfishly him alone.

 “I know right. I’ve told him he’d be amazing!”

“Phichit.” Yuuri hisses his shoulders hunching slightly. Viktor looks down at him, the elegant line of his neck and the way his black hair falls into the warmest, brightest brown eyes he’s ever seen. He feels his heart beating hard in his chest and he drops Yuuri’s hand to beckon over a member of his staff. “Mila, I know it’s a night off but I would appreciate your help with a little project if Yuuri will allow it. I’d like to gift him with one of our blossom suits from the spring collection.” He smiles nervously at Yuuri. “Would that be okay?”

“I- it’s very generous but I-” Yuuri starts.

“Come on Yuuri!”

“Yuuri.” Viktor speaks over Phichit, sure and honest. “You don’t have to accept but it would be an honour to have you wear my clothes.” Yuuri stares searchingly up at him, blush still high on his cheeks but his eyes are sharp and questioning. “Okay.” he nods and Viktor almost shouts in happiness. “Great! Mila, would you mind showing Yuuri to a fitting room. Phichit come with me.”

 

Viktor strides across the shop, dodging guests here and there as Phichit follows excitedly. “Have you ever done any tailoring?” He asks him as they slide into the back of the store. The room is large and rectangular, just as opulent as the shop floor but the light is brighter and each wall is lined with clothes rails. Viktor glances back at Phichit who looks like he’s about to faint. The back-room stores pieces not yet for sale or parts of previous collections that they may make available to any enquiring patrons. There are also several empty rails ready to hold custom, tailored and altered pieces. At the end of the room are several black cabinets. “Phichit.” Viktor stops and tries again “I’m sure this is a little overwhelming for you. I invited you, as you probably know, because I find a lot of my employees and designers from fashion and design colleges around the world.” Phichit nods and smiles, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet “I like your work but show me a little more of what you can do okay? Have you tailored anything before?” Phichit nods smiling and almost bursting with pride, considerably more focussed now. Viktor knows it’s unfair, Phichit probably wasn’t expecting any of this. He probably assumed that the invite would be an opportunity to meet Viktor, maybe work out some kind of internship and have fun and that’s what Viktor had intended. He’d intended to keep everything strictly business until Phichit had shown up with Yuuri. Yuuri, more beautiful than anything Viktor could ever drape him in.

 

“You’re not just doing this to test me though.” Phichit’s smile morphs into something devilish. It appears as though Viktor has underestimated him which makes him even more glad he chose Phichit as a potential intern. “The way you look at him. You think he’s cute.” Viktor laughs, unabashed.

“That obvious huh?” He takes a key out of his pocket and fits it into the lock of one of the cabinets, the inside is filled with draws, he opens and closes a few before removing two tape measures and two small, silver tins. He drapes one tape measure round his shoulder and tucks one of the tins into his pocket before turning and locking the cabinet. He passes the rest of the items to Phichit and they make their way toward the shop floor.

 

“I think he might just return the sentiment,” Phichit winks, “so what’s the plan?”

“This? Tailor a suit for him and ask him out when he comes to pick it up?” Viktor says suddenly unsure. What if he’s just tolerating Viktor for Phichit’s sake? What if he’s already left by the time they get to the fitting room? What if he never returns to pick up the suit? “Hmm, that last one is a definite possibility, Yuuri can get super anxious about that sort of thing.” Phichit muses and of course Viktor had voiced his thoughts aloud. Too much damn champagne. “I know!” Phichit adds, and he is smirking and Viktor is unsure as to when exactly he lost the upper hand. “Let’s make a deal. If I do a good job here, you give me a paid internship here, _paid_ , and I bring Yuuri here to utilise staff discount, meet me after work. Every opportunity I get.”

“Who said interns get staff discount?” Viktor replies, trying to exert some kind of authority because apparently Phichit has forgotten he does _own_ the place.

“Viktor.” Phichit deadpans and he caves. “Fine.” He says, gripping Phichit’s hand “You’ve got a deal.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri finds it incredibly difficult not to fidget as Viktor takes his measurements. He has been surrounded by impossibly beautiful and important looking people the entire evening, the only thing making him even remotely unwilling to bolt is the endless number of champagne flutes Phichit has pressed into his hand. He’s light headed and very aware that he wouldn’t be subjecting himself to this without the bubbly feeling the alcohol provides boosting his confidence. Ever since Viktor introduced himself he’s had a hard time breathing, his face permanently stained with pink. Yuuri has always admired Viktor since he first saw him in one of Phichit’s fashion magazines, he’d had longer hair then and it cascaded over his shoulders as he’d laughed, playing with his pet poodle in a candid shot. He’d been drawn to it, unused to seeing someone so vibrant in a magazine usually filled with beautiful but moody looking models, pristine and untouchable.

 

Yuuri can’t pinpoint the exact moment Phichit had picked up on his admiration, though Phichit teased him endlessly about it. Yuuri would’ve thought that Phichit inviting him to the opening would’ve just been an excuse to embarrass him if he didn’t know him better. He can hear the chatter and music faintly beyond the door of the fitting room but any chatter from Mila or Phichit or even Viktor is drowned out by the sound of his own heartbeat, loud in his ears as Viktor wraps the tape measure delicately around his waist. Yuuri’s breath hitches as Viktor squints down at the numbers, hair falling just so across his face, so focused. “You should be wearing your glasses.” Mila tuts at him and Yuuri can see the faintest traces of pink colouring his cheeks from this close as Phichit gasps.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“He only needs them for close work.” Mila adds with a shrug “He doesn’t wear them often, he hates them.” Viktor grimaces but returns to his work, methodically taking Yuuri’s measurements as he fights the urge to hide himself from Viktor’s unflinching gaze.

 

Phichit and Mila change the topic, chatting away as Viktor continues. “Why?” Yuuri asks soft and curious, when the tape measure slips from his hips and Viktor is jotting down the next couple of numbers. He smiles, something small and awkward as his hand rubs the nape of his neck. The Viktor that stands in front of him is entirely different to what he had witnessed in countless interviews and even just out on the shop floor earlier that evening. “I don’t know.” He says quietly, flipping his notebook shut and draping the tape measure round his neck “I guess I just don’t suit them like you do. They make me look old.” He huffs out a nervous laugh and Yuuri’s hands twitch at his sides.

 

Before he can even register his own urge to, he’s plucking the frames from his face and handing them to a stunned looking Viktor. This is silly he knows but he doesn’t retract his hand just waits until Viktor takes them carefully. He perches them on the bridge of his nose and scrutinises his reflection in the mirror behind them. Mila and Phichit snicker and Yuuri watches as Viktor turns back to him, excitedly. “What do you think Yuuri?” He asks, striking a pose fit for any runway or fashion magazine.

“Y-you look good- I mean they look good. On you, I mean. They look good on you.” Yuuri stutters out.

“You’re too kind Yuuri!” Viktor cries, throwing his arms around him and pressing their cheeks together, knocking the glasses askew as the frames press into Yuuri’s skin. He prays that a picture of his flustered face doesn’t find its way onto Phichit’s Instagram. A knock on the door startles him and mortified, he wrenches himself out of Viktor’s hold as the door opens. “Yes, Georgi?” Viktor asks, slipping Yuuri’s glasses from his face.

“Sorry to spoil the fun, but the press is getting antsy.” He says looking genuinely apologetic and Viktor sighs, running a hand through his hair. “No, it’s okay, thank you. I’ll be out in a minute.” Georgi nods and closes the door.

 

“I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Mila for the time being.” He says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he pulls the measuring tape from his shoulders and stuffs it in his pocket. “I’ll try my best to see how you’re getting on later. If you need anything just let Mila know.” Yuuri bites his lip as Viktor delicately pushes the glasses up to the bridge of Yuuri’s nose. He shivers as Viktor pushes a tuft of hair behind his ear, fingertips lingering briefly on the heated skin of his neck.

 

* * *

 

Viktor has never been more frustrated in his life. Trapped in an endless parade of interviews he does nothing but steal glances at the door that leads back to the fitting room and back to Yuuri. There is more than enough champagne in both of their systems but he knows even without the alcohol, he’d still be enraptured by Yuuri. He’s panicking a little, trying desperately to pay attention as his mind and heartbeat run a mile a minute. It’s too much, too fast, to be this desperate for what is, at this point, just the idea of the man. He knows he’s in trouble when the door to the fitting room clicks open. Viktor zeros in on him from across the room, watches with bated breath as he exits it with unassuming grace. He both praises and curses Mila when he notices Yuuri is wearing another of the samples from the spring collection, most likely knowing of Viktor’s opinion of the jacket he’d shown up in. It’s a simple black suit jacket, with small crimson flowers cascading over the lapels, he’s even got a pocket square to match and Viktor feels blissful just looking at him.

 

Phichit tugs Yuuri over to a table bearing more champagne and he stumbles a little, throwing his head back as he laughs, his cheeks flushed a red that matches the details of his suit. Mila has obviously been more than accommodating with the champagne. He turns back to the reporter in front of him when he hears an irritatingly high pitched cough, clearly meant to regain his attention. He tries to stay focussed but now that he knows the sound of it he picks out the intermittent sound of Yuuri’s laughter above the cocktail chatter. He steals glances when he can and as the night wears on Yuuri returns a few, eyes sparkling with confidence and the influence of expensive champagne. Viktor feels hot, itchy as he stands, still talking to the eager patrons and reporters alike.

  
He meets Yuuri’s eyes as he manages to break away to grab his own glass of champagne and feels like he’s on fire as Yuuri all but slinks his way over to him. There’s something lascivious in the way he walks, strides long and confident, letting nothing get in his way. Viktor feels stifled, like the air is suddenly denser than it has ever been. “Hey,” Yuuri says when he reaches him. His glasses have gone and he’s pushed his hair back in a way that makes Viktor tug anxiously at the collar of his shirt. “Do you wanna dance with me?” He asks looking up from beneath long lashes and Viktor can barely breathe. “Yeah.” He tugs his tie free from his collar, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt and flings the Italian silk behind the counter. _Fuck it_. “Yeah I wanna dance with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this little bit of silliness. Find me on Tumblr at cutelikedirtycute and yell at me! If you have any suggestions about what you'd like to see in this series either scenes or outfits let me know!
> 
> Also I've started to spell Viktor with a 'k' because that's what I'm seeing as the most common spelling but I don't really know why? Anyone really know if there's a rhyme or reason to it being spelt a certain way?


End file.
